


At Your Desire

by cloverfield



Series: It Takes A Village [1]
Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Blink and You'll Miss 'Em CLAMP Cameos, Drag Queen Kurogane, Drag Queens, Drug and alcohol references, M/M, Rainbow Families, Single Dad Kurogane, Situational Use of She/Her Pronouns, Useless Pansexual Fai D. Fluorite, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22678966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: “Cat got your tongue, boy?”“No, M’am.” When in doubt, be polite, and this time the curl of that mouth is more like a smile than a sneer, though still closer to a snarl than anything else. It makes Fai shiver, seeing it reflected in glass; he feels like prey wandering into a gorgon’s nest, except considerably more aroused.“You’regorgeous,” he blurts, without thinking and without any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, and nearly drops the damned parcel he came here to deliver in the first place.“Heh. You think you’re cute.”
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Series: It Takes A Village [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631464
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	At Your Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fic. 
> 
> "*pushes aside whatever you are supposed to be doing so I can lay seductively on your desk* you ever think about...drag queen Kurogane??"
> 
> Fai has a brush with queer royalty.

Being backstage at a drag show feels a little like wandering through the closet back to Narnia - if Narnia smelt of cheap perfume, nail polish remover, and Hold Up! body adhesive with just a dash of boozy fumes washing up from the cracks beneath the door. The pulsing throb of the music downstairs reverbs in his ribs like a second heartbeat, and the glare of the mirror lights cracks through the humid darkness like holes punched in velvet, dazzling the eye as one passes through.

Fai doesn’t see any fauns, though he does pass a Bear or two, and the White Queen glaring at him from the corner booth has her snowstruck eyeliner honed to deadly precision. He steps carefully all the same - dodging fallen feathers, a slipshod snowfall of sequins lost from some unfortunate shimmery number being frantically patched by two pretty young things with green eyes, and at least a clearance outlet’s worth of stilettos with broken heels - and his hesitance eventually leads him to the dressing room in question.

 _You won’t miss it,_ Yuuko had said, and the words had poured like vapour from her lips, sweet curlicues of something that certainly wasn’t tobacco smoke on her breath; _the star on the door will tell you you’re in the right place._

Fai still isn’t exactly sure what’s in the parcel he’s supposed to be delivering backstage - he’s about 90% sure it isn’t illegal, or at least isn’t illegal enough to get him caught - or why he has to deliver it by hand, but, well, one doesn’t argue with the undisputed Queen of the Neighbourhood, especially when the only answer she gives to your questions is throaty laughter. His sweaty palms slip on the paper-wrapped parcel he stuffs awkwardly under one arm as he raps his knuckles on the door–

–and fucking jumps out of his sneaks when the baritone rumble of a _very_ pissed-off individual answers him, growling through thin chipboard as thought it wasn’t there at all.

“Monou, I fucking _told you_ , I’m not going back for an encore tonight; I have to take Tomoyo to the fashion carnival tomorrow and I can’t do that if I have a migraine from the fucking dubstep _you_ refuse to turn down to a dull roar–”

The click of bootheels foretells Fai’s doom in perfect deadly rhythm as they thunder towards the door, and he has only a moment to swallow against the swollen lump of his Adam’s apple before the door scythes open, and when Fai musters up the courage to look up (and up, and _up_ , oh fuck) from his hand poised trembling in open space it’s to meet eyes that do not smoulder as much as they seethe with heat behind the fringing silk of dark, dark eyelashes and a glare that could melt steel at twenty paces.

“You’re not Monou,” rumbles the vision in the doorway, scarlet dressing gown flowing over powerful shoulders like the bloodiest of silk and the fierce cut of that jawline fit to fell skyscrapers.

“No,” squeaks Fai. “Um. Yuuko – I have a _delivery_ –”

That red, red mouth twists in a sneer like a slit throat, and Fai swallows audibly against his thudding heart as it forces itself up from his pinched and trembling chest cavity. “Fuckin’ figures. Queen Bitch pushing her work on whatever idiot she can get her hands on – that’s for Lady Glass-eye, yeah?”

Dumbly, Fai nods.

Those thick eyelashes saw briefly closed as the amazon before him grunts in disapproval. “She’s sick tonight – they called me instead. You can put it on her vanity if you want. Bet Herself told you not to let anyone else touch it, yeah?”

Another nod, because Fai doesn’t quite trust himself to speak, and with good reason: the spaghetti-thin strap of a lace chemise trembles free beneath the drape of slippery satin even as he watches, dropping precious inches down biceps that roll with a muscular shrug. Beneath the sheer silk, he watches the cut of abs ripple like an avalanche, thin cloth pulling tight against that broad and powerful chest.

“Come on then, I don’t got all night.”

The inside of the dressing room smells more like perfume than the outside, but a nicer kind maybe - it’s not overpowering even if it is dizzying, and Fai drags in a hesitant breath as he steps over the threadbare rug and into the warroom space of the killer before him as they take a seat. The vanity space is crowded with product, make-up and glitter and all kinds of things Fai last saw on his mother’s dresser, but honestly he can’t make out a single label but for his treacherous gaze falling and sticking to long legs as they cross and the satiny billow of that damned robe blows open across silk-stockinged thighs that look thick enough to crush a man between them.

“Just put it down wherever there’s space,” sighs the virago those legs belong to, toeing off stilettos with a groan. “I’ve been in those heels all night, so I’m not standing any longer than I have to.”

A sideways glance at Fai skips the blood in his veins to a low simmer, the glare of those hot eyes rippling goosebumps over skin that prickles beneath his shirt - and the abrupt and nonsensical desire to be wearing something a bit nicer than his threadbare _Pansexuals Do It In The Kitchen_ tee and a pair of skinny jeans that have seen better days feels like a punch in the gut.

“You got a name? Or am I supposed to call you Blondie?”

“Uh,” says Fai intelligently, and then “Fai,” with barely anymore grace. “And – and when I see Yuuko, who should I say I–”

“Ms. Andrist when I’m working,” is the crisp response, and Fai watches dark hands pluck the dangling twists of glittering earrings clear with quick, skillful movement. “And that’s with she/her pronouns, too. But you can tell Yuuko you left your package with Kurogane. She knows who I am.”

Fai nods again, realises it probably hasn’t been seen as Ms. Andrist has moved on to her other ear, and manages a strangled affirmative. Those burning, burning eyes flick up to meet his in the mirror.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?”

“No, M’am.” When in doubt, be polite, and this time the curl of that mouth is more like a smile than a sneer, though still closer to a snarl than anything else. It makes Fai shiver, seeing it reflected in glass; he feels like prey wandering into a gorgon’s nest, except considerably more aroused.

“You’re _gorgeous_ ,” he blurts, without thinking and without any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, and nearly drops the damned parcel he came here to deliver in the first place.

“Heh. You think you’re cute.” That baritone rumble hits him in the ribs, trickles down like trailing fingertips even as the hair on the nape of his neck stands erect. And he’s got to stop thinking about the word erect or he’s going to have a serious problem on his hands.

“I know I’m gorgeous, I hear it a hundred times a night,” she snorts, the sound in wonderful, inelegant contrast the the rasp of silk-on-silk as she uncrosses and crosses her legs again – and Fai nearly goes cross-eyed at the sight of a black garter belt snapping into view as that dressing gown sloughs back over the rippling muscle of those glorious thighs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You terrify me and I want to buy you a drink,” says Fai, because impulse control has never been his strong suit. “Whatever you like,” he adds, with only the faintest note of desperation.

Ms. Andrist eyes him up, slowly, and the razor-blade drag of her gaze over him leaves Fai shaking in his scuffed-up boots.

“I gotta take my kid to a school thing early tomorrow morning,” she says quietly, and for a moment Fai sees the single dad behind the face and the glitter. “ And I’ve only got the babysitter until two, so I can’t stay out tonight. I don’t drink when I work either.”

“Coffee?” says Fai. “I can get you one from the cafe on the corner while you wait for a taxi.” And he can write his number on the dinky little cardboard tray they’ll give him to carry it, too.

“Tea,” says Ms. Andrist, after a little while, and a long enough pause that Fai’s hands start to sweat again, paper slick against his palms. “Make it black, no sugar, no milk. Ask for Caldina at the counter - she knows how I like it.”

“I’ll see you down stairs,” says Fai, and if he’s trying not to smile he’s definitely failing, his reflection grinning bright and hopeless in the mirror.

Dark strands fall over those dangerous eyes as she rakes one big hand through short-cropped and sweaty hair and nods at the paper-wrapped box in Fai’s hands, red lips grinning wide over white, sharp teeth. “You might wanna leave that parcel behind first, boy. It’s what you came here for in the first place, isn’t it?”

Fai swallows. “Not anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Ms. Andrist, herself.](http://cutiepie-tro.tumblr.com/post/160483141637/fieldofclover-watered-my-crops-and-fed-my)
> 
> My small knowledge of drag queen etiquette and terminology implies use of she/her pronouns when in drag, but if I am wrong, please correct me; it was not my intention to offend and I would be happy to be educated if such is the case.
> 
> There are vague and tentative plans for a follow-up where single dad Kurogane introduces Fai to his adorable daughter on their coffee and cake date at the local queer-friendly coffeeshop, on the basis of if Fai wants to date him he needs to understand that he comes as part of a package, and Fai proves his credentials as a potential new member of their small rainbow family just swimmingly -- but don't hold me to it.


End file.
